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75 

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COPYRIGHT, I 90 1 
BY TH£ PELHAM PRESS 






< c < c t t 



IN MEMORY OF 

WILLIAM BARD MCVICKAR 

BORN OCTOBER 14, 1858 
DIED MARCH 30, 1901 

AT THE REQUEST OF HIS FRIENDS 
THESE POEMS HAVE BEEN COLLECTED 
AND ILLUSTRATED BY HIS BROTHER 





JfM?7 ^^ 



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3CcftnotoIeli5ment i^ matie 

to ti^t <ehitot$ of '' €l)e 

Centurp/' ^^ttife'^ 

anti ''^ntk" 




INTRODUCTION 

OME one more versed in 

books than I 

Has something more than 

hinted 

I ought to give a reason why 

This little book is printed ; 

And that 'tis hard to do — // hath 
No bearing on the season ; 

It was not writ for love^ or wrath, 
Or other obvious reason ; 

It hath no lesson to impart ; 

It solves no social question ; 
Its pathos may not reach the heart. 

Its laughter help digestion ; 

Tet if one verse within it finds 

A sympathetic dimple 
Or if it prove to laymen s minds, 

That lawyers can be simple. 

Why then Id hold its work well done 
Though further praise be stinted. 

For after all 'tis half for fun 
This little book is printed. 



Zl 




Oyez ! Oyez ! Oyez ! i 

Psalms, LXXXV: lo 3 

Understood 

The Court of Love 

To Janet 
To Phyllis . 
Lex Talionis . 
Her Heart 



^^' Tempora Mutantur . 
^ To Phyllis .... 
' To Chloe .... 

Ballade 

In Answer to a Request for Nine Valen- 
tines ....... 

To a Five Dollar Bill 



4 
6 

8 

9 
II 

12 

13 

17 
18 

20 

22 
23 



If I Were Rich . . . . . 


24 


On Edith Masquerading as Diana on St. 




Valentine's Day .... 


26 


April Fool ...... 


28 


A Mile. Phyllis .... 


29 


Autumnal ...... 


30 


A Cup of Tea ..... 


31 


On a Butterfly Fluttering Over the Chan- 




cel ...... . 


32 


To My Godson .... 


33 


To Miss Pumpernickel .... 


34 


Cheeky ...... 


3S 


To Daphne with a Silver Bonbonniere 


36 


Under the Mistletoe . . . 


37 


Love with Marginal Notes 


38 


Autumn Days ..... 


40 


A Valentine 


41 


You Dear Old Gotham 


42 


A Valentine ...... 


44 


Entre Nous ..... 


45 


To My Mother on Her Birthday . 


49 


To My Mother on Her Birthday 


52 


Two Pictures ..... 


S3 


To Prue with a Fan .... 


SS 



Yesterday, To-day and To-morrow . ^6 

Arcadie . . . . . . 58 

Miss Aurora Borealis . . . .60 

A Plea for Two Lawless Trespassers . 61 

The Duel ...... 62 

Osculatory ..... 64 

A Stitch in Time Saves Nine . . -65 
By Request ..... 67 

Diablerie ' . . . . . .69 

Man's Love ..... 70 

A Reminiscence . . . . • 71 

Romance ...... 72 

Quid Pro Quo 73 

Her Parasol . . . . . 74 

To the Diana on Top of Madison Square 
Garden . . . . . -75 

Celia's Portrait . . . . . 76 

Amaryllis at Newport . . . -77 

Joan . . . . . . 78 

Epitaph of a Cur . . . . -79 

To Celia Requesting a Poem Before Break- 
fast 80 

A Triolet 81 

To Phyllis 82 



PAGE 



To Her . . . . . .83 

To Araminta . . . . . 84 

What Baby Thinks . . . .85 

To My Daughter Phyllis— 1893 . 86 
"To Betty"— 1897 .... 88 

Bon Voyage ..... 89 

" Whence Comes Fear ? " . . .90 

Peace . . . • . • 91 

A Dedication . . . . -92 




OYEZ! OYEZ! OYEZ! 



H, hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, all 

Ye that have business referred 
To this Honorable Court from hovel 
or hall 
Draw near and ye shall be heard ; 



Ye damsels for Thomas the groom 
who sigh. 
Ye lovers of Lady de Vere. 
Ye dandies enchained by a dairy 
maid's eye, 
Ye sweethearts and swains draw near ; 

For this is the Court of his Majesty Love, 
From which there lies no appeal. 

Where weighty decrees are given above 
A heart by way of a seal ; 

Where fjnes are paid in kisses and sighs. 

Where fetters are woven of hair. 
Where oaths are always supposed to be lies. 

Where everything wrong is fair ; 



So then to the bar of this Honorable Court 

Let every one, sinner or saint, 
Whatever her sex or his station resort 

Alleging their cause of complaint. 




PSALMS, LXXXV: lo 

' * Mercy and Truth are met together : 
Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other." 



N charitable errand bent 
Prue met a legal youth, 

And said to him with arch intent : 
" Lo, Mercy, sir, and — Truth ? " 



He answered her in such a way, 

That she will never cease 
To wonder if he meant to say : 

No, Righteousness and Peace ! " 




i( 




UNDERSTOOD 

LOVED a maiden once as well 
As she was passing fair, 
And that is more, the truth to tell, 
Than now to love I'd care; 
And she would let me kiss her hand. 

When Vd been very good — 
That is, if I would " understand." 
At length I understood. 

I asked her for her photograph 

To light my lonely room ; 
She laughed a merry little laugh, 

But left me to my gloom ; 
For that was such a " strange " demand 

She did not think she could — 
Because I might not " understand." 

And then I understood. 

I wooed her in the morning, noon. 

And afternoon, and night, 
I would have fetched the very moon 

And stars for her delight ; 
She said my love was truly grand, 

And that some day she would — 



And hoped that I would "understand." 
How well I understood ! 

At last I took by force of arms 

The kisses she denied ; 
Her dimples were her chiefest charms, 

And so she never cried, 
But faltered as with nimble hand 

She rearranged her snood, 
" I knew you wouldn't understand ! " 

But I had understood. 




^^-^ BRIEF FOR 
RESPONDENTS 

STATEMENT 

That in the month of May 
On or about some day 
Appellant took relator's heart, 
and stole it quite away. 

POINT I 

The case is more than clear; 
Intent doth well appear ; 
" Felonious taking," please the Court, is quite 
established here. 



POINT II 



The heart was not returned ; 
Appellant claims 'twas spurned, 
The evidence, however, shows, with passion 
it was burned ! 



POINT III 

The larceny is grand, 
And, as the cases stand, 

Appellant, to relator clearly forfeiting her 
hand. 

Should be confined for life 
In bonds of " wedded strife," 
And be proclaimed to all the world as the 
relator's wife. 

Dan Cupid, 

of Counsel. 




TO JANET 

WRITTEN ON THE FLY LEAF OF DE MUSSET's 
" COMEDIES ET PROVERBES " 

lO gift of old, of ring or book, 

But had a posy scrawled upon it. 
But years ago the world forsook 
This pretty mode, and moderns 
brook 
Nor chansonnette, nor sonnet; 

Yet one whose eyes have met your eyes 

Must hymn for very sadness 
Those pools in which his reason lies. 
For it mistook them for the skies, 

And now lies drowned in gladness : 

And if you find within these books 

But tales of love's entreating. 
Ah, blame not me, but blame your looks, 
Which sent my reason off the hooks. 

And set my heart a-beating. 





on returning her copy of 
story's *<he and she" 

HATE'ER it be the book 
you lent, 
Whose idle pages you have 
turned 
Whose thoughts their little store 
have spent 
Upon you as you read and 
learned, 
Or missed the lessons it would 
teach, 
Whose binding felt your 
magic touch, — 
For pages, thoughts, and binding 
each 
I cannot ever say too much. 

A quaint idea that " he and she " 
Together in a sylvan glade 

Should chatter apt philosophy. 
The poet voicing to the maid 

The thoughts which tumble 
through his brain 



On love, on life, on death and rhymes : — 
Ah, thoughts, you are so very vain ! 
And yet you come to all at times. — 

A pretty thought that " he and she " 

Should thus the old conclusions try 
With nature, men and destiny, — 

But think you not that you and I 
Would sound as well ? And, ah, how sweet 

To lead you to some mossy spot, 
And lay me humbly at your feet 

While we discuss — I care not what ! 

And while decision, nicely poised. 

To this side, then to that inclines. 
Or each decree abroad is noised 

By cawing rooks among the pines. 
So long as I might linger there 

Afar from life's more beaten tracks 
With you alone, for all I'd care. 

The world might go to — Halifax ! 



lO 







^ 






; : 


M\ 




^ 



LEX TALIONIS 



STILL can see the wavy curls 

That o'er her shoulders 

floated. 

She was the very "girl of girls," 

On whom my young heart 

doted 



She listened then with cold disdain 

To all my silly speeches. 
And laughed outright to find : " Dear Jane 

Engraved on copper — beeches : 



But now that in the lapse of years, 

(Full nine and thirty summers) 
Her hair grown thin behind the ears, 

She welcometh all comers. 
My hand no more I seek to link 

With that, which still her own is, 
And o'er my peaceful pipe I think 

Upon the lex talionis. 




HER HEART 

DAINTY boudoir all scented and prim, 
As neat as new wax yet crowded with 
things, 
With photograph albums filled to 
the brim, 
With patterns for skirts and for bod- 
ices trim, 
With powder and puffs and patches and rings ; 

With note-books of gossip and scandal grim, 

An accurate table of who is who, 
A bundle of letters, all faded and dim. 
And a rose that was given her once by hiniy 

Before she jilted him — faded, too. 

And this, with the mirror, is all that's there 

In the heart of milady so dainty and sweet. 
With perhaps just a soup^on of thought to spare. 
Which thought need neither be novel nor rare, 
But just orderly, trim and neat. 

For passion must out and reason be dumb — 

Such a very well ordered heart is hers — 
And passion may grumble, and reason look glum 
But both are well under her ladyship's thumb; 
And woe to the one that demurs. 

12 




TEMPORA MUTANTUR 

HEN you were five and I was seven 

We loved each other dearly ; 
We kissed, it was a childish heaven 

To play at lovers merely ; 
Full fifteen years and more had sped, — 

How swift the twelvemonths canter ! 
No longer we at lovtrs played ; 

Ah, " tempora mutantur I ' » 

For you were fairer than the flowers, 
That loved to grow around you, 

A thing to gaze upon for hours. 
To dream about I found you, 

But when I begged for childhood's kiss 
You laughed in merry banter ; 

As though it were conclusive, this : 
^" Sir, ' tempora mutantur ' / " 

The times are changed, yes, Phyllis, very ; 
My hair and beard are grizzled ; 

'3 



'Tis hard to wait for Charon's ferry, 
And think how life has " fizzled " ; 

The times do change, and so do we, 
But I still love you, PhyUis, 

And times may change for you and me. 
If love don't change "/';/ illisJ^ 



14 



TO PHYLLIS 

WITH A SKETCH AND A BOX OF SWEETS 



(^^^y'AM very much afraid, that you know 
^llv^ this little maid, 

KjM^s Whose name I do not choose to 
disclose-close-close. 
As for the little man, you may guess him, if 
you can. 
By the funny shape and size of his nose-nose- 
nose : 

As he hands his little box to the maid with 
curly locks 
He says, while he bows : " Will you take- 
take-take, 
" The heart that lies inside, which you'll find is 
true and tried, 
"While you eat the candies up for my sake- 
sake-sake ? " 

Says the little maid in turn : " Your heart I 
must return, 
" For hearts are seldom good for to eat-eat-eat, 
" But the candies I will take, not for your hon- 
or's sake, 
" But simply for the reason that they're 
sweet-sweet-sweet." 

17 



TO CHLOE 

IN RETURN FOR A COPY OF DE MUSSET'S VERSES 

HEN the world was young and 
the heavens were new, 
And the fauns and the satyrs 

had nothing to do 
But to bask in the sunlight, 
admire the view. 

And flirt with the nymph sand the graces, 
*Twas then that the earth could afford to be gay. 
For her children were few and not much in the 

way, 
And she still had some time to herself in the day 
After washing their hands and their faces ; 




And being just then of poetical turn — 

(The author she was of the " Elm and the 

Fern," 
Which she set to the tune of the soft tinkling 
burn) — 

By way of employing her hours 
She determined her former attempts to outdo. 
And to bind to her side with links forged anew 
Her lover, the Sun — poetical too — 

So she wrote the sweet songs of the flowers : 



iS 



And, having procured a copy of these, 
Selected of course, for each one agrees. 
That no maiden may read whatever she please — 

The reason ? — I'm sure I don't know it, 
I send them to you as a token to-day. 
And hope that their fragrance may manage to 

say 
As much as your heart in the very same way, 
As to mine did the lines of your poet. 




19 




'VE often mused about 

your face, 
Since recollection naught 

implies. 
For old Time changes 
things apace 
As onward in his course he flies, 
And when on you I last set eyes 
You were a little girl, you see, — 

A thing that merely laughs or cries, 
CKere Rosalie de Normandie : 

And so I turned in thought to trace 

The character which underlies 
The features of our ancient race. 

And all its bearings analyze, 

That I might cunningly devise 
The traits that should your portion be 

To make you lovable and wise, 
Chere Rosalie de Normandie : 



zo 



I loved to picture you all grace — 
The object of a lover's sighs, 

Who treasures close a bit of lace, 

Torn off by chance as priceless prize, 
Or else in sonnets vainly tries 

To praise your virtues fittingly ; — 
I pictured you in such a guise, 

CKere Rosalie de Normandie : 



ENVOI 



But since, deserting foreign skies, 
You've shown your very self to me, 

My fairest dreams I now despise, 
Chere Rosalie de Normandie, 



%\ 



IN ANSWER TO A REQUEST FOR 
NINE VALENTINES 

old one muse the poet sung, 

And must I hymn the nine ? 
And must I teach my rebel tongue 
To ask as valentine 
Nine girls, egad? No, FU be 
hung 
Before I'll write a line! 




aa 




TO A FIVE DOLLAR BILL 

E two, at least before you went, 
Have seen the town to some 
extent. 

Have been out late o* nights together 
In nipping and in sultry weather, 
And, each to serve his private ends. 
Have been, as friendship goes, good friends ; 
So, Bill, in answer to these rhymes 
Remembering kindly former times 
Come look me up, you'll find me thinner; 
And, William, treat me to a dinner. 



as 



i3 

m 



F I were rich I'd have a horse, 

A house that owned a stable, 
My dinners should be good of course, 

With claret on the table, 
My china, glass and silverware 

Should be beyond all cavil. 
And when I needed change of air 

I'd go abroad and travel : 



I'd have a man to black my shoes, 

I'd subsidize a barber. 
My friends I sometimes would amuse 

With yachting in the harbor, 
I'd get up in the mornings late. 

Let's say about eleven. 
And dine each night at halt past 
eight. 

And not as now at seven. 



For nothing should be as it was. 
If money could arrange it, 

If I were rich, then just because 
A thing was so I'd change it; 

24 



And, living now in single ease. 

The first thing I should do, dear. 
Would be to settle, if you please, 

My wedding day with you, dear. 



as 




ON EDITH MASQUERADING AS DI- 
ANA ON ST. VALENTINE^S DAY 

IAN Cupid winked his roguish eye, 
His fat sides shook with laughter. 
He rubbed his hands and cried: 
"Oh my! 
" There will be fun hereafter ! " 
Quoth he : "I'm laying even bets, 
" Miss Dian will repent her 
" Of flouting at me when she gets 
"The valentine Fve sent her." 

It seems that he his arrows had 
Exchanged for those she carried ; 

It grieved the tender-hearted lad 
That she had never married ; 

"And sure," thought he, "amid the rout 

" Of Tuesday's fancy dances 

" If she but take an arrow out, 

" 'Tis odds that something chances ! " 

Alas, alas, she left unlatched 

That quiver full of sorrows. 
And she alone remains unscratched 

By those almighty arrows ; 
26 



So weeping sore we go our ways, 
Wherever our duty leadeth, 

But evermore we stop to gaze — 
On Dian ? — No, on Edith. 




*7 




APRIL FOOL 

WOULD not kiss you, if I could; 

I would not press your hand I swear : 
'Twere vain t* undo your silken snood 
To tempt me with your golden hair : 

My arm abhors your dainty waist ; 

My head upon your virgin breast, 
Nor rapture can, nor comfort taste, 
But sighs for pillows and for rest ; 

My eyes I close and turn away. 

If but an ankle steal in sight. 
And to your rippling laughter gay 

I shut my ears with all my might; 

And — yes, though you're the brightest miss. 
That ever chattered French at school, 

If you believe one word of this, 

ril laugh and call you : " April Fool " ! 



a8- 



A MLLE. PHYLLIS 




ANS le vieux temps il se fit 
Que M. Cupidon, ma chere, 
Embrassait bien a ce qu'on 
dit, 
Psyche qui le laissa faire — 

Cherie, si tu voudrais bien 
Mes tendres prieres exaucer, 
Cupidon aupres du mien 
Roueirait de son baiser. 



29 




AUTUMNAL 

HOUGH, dear, I distinctly remem- 
ber, 

(Many years have passed over us 
since), 
Twas the bleakest of nights in December, 

When my heart began first to evince. 
That said heart could e'en glow like an ember, 
Though till then 'twas the hardest of flints ; 

And though May was the month when we 
plighted 

That troth, which we ever shall keep. 
And the brightest of sunbeams delighted 

To play with your curls at bo-peep 
All that day, till worn out they alighted, 

And in your two eyes fell asleep ; 

'Tis when others are hunting the coon, dear, 
The grouse and the partridge with zest ; 

And in red and in gold and maroon, dear ; 
The bushes and trees are all dressed ; 

Yes, Autumn's the time when the moon, dear^ 
Impels me to love you the best. 



30 



A CUP OF TEA 

LITTLE note in Phyllis' 
hand, 
As plain as plain can be, 
'Tis signed with her 
own signet, and 
It is addressed to me. 

I stand and think what it can hold 

Of love or coquetry 
Until, my faint heart growing bold, 

I open it and see. 

Alas ! 'tis but a mere request 

" To take a cup of tea 
At five o'clock," and meet her guest, 

'^ That charming girl. Miss B." 

A hundred more no doubt have learned 

Of that same cup of tea — 
'Tis hard where Phyllis is concerned 

Just one per cent, to be ! 

But though my hopes have gone pell-mell, 

Dissolved in mild Bohea, 
I'll go and drown my woes as well 

In flowing bowls of — tea. 

31 





ON A BUTTERFLY FLUTTERING 
OVER THE CHANCEL 

SEPTEMBER 24, 1 893 

ISYCHE with enameled wings, 
Fluttering o'er the altar fair, 
Tell me what good spirit 
brings 
You in the house of prayer. 

Emblem of the soul, you preach 
Better sermon than the priest. 

See how high your pinions reach ! 
Higher may attain the least. 

Grovelling worm, than all more vile 
From the chrysalis of death. 

You have sought the sacred pile. 
Wafted by your Maker's breath. 

There with your prismatic wing. 

While the priest doth prose and plod. 

Showing us how fair a thing 
Is the soul that worships God. 



32 



TO MY GODSON 

WITH A PAIR OF SILVER SPURS 

OR churls the lash, the 
spurs for him, 
Who, fearless, sets his 
lance in rest 
Against all baseness, scorns to trim. 
And stands for nothing but the best. 




33 



TO MISS PUMPERNICKEL 

'F your name you regret, 
It is easy to change it: 
'Tis futile to fret ; 
If your name you regret, 
I'm single as yet, 

Why can't we arrange it ? 
If your name you regret. 

Pray why don't you change it ? 




34 




CHEEKY 

F ^^ dans F amour 
II y a toujour si' 

The proverb isn't new, 
" Uun qui baise,'' 
For so it says, 
L " Et r autre qui tend la joueT 

It seems to me, 
Ma chere amie. 

The one to kiss I'd seek 
To be, and so 
rd like to know 

If you'll supply the cheek. 



35 




TO DAPHNE WITH A SILVER 
BONBONNIERE 

CARE not what you keep in It, 
Or sweets or other things. 
But pray that when you peep in it 
The love I've put to sleep in it 
May stretch his downy wings, 
May rise and stretch his wings: 

That should you ever weep in it 

For joy, or grief or fear 
Back may he quickly creep in it, 
And snuggling close and deep in it 

May drink up every tear. 

May dry up every tear. 



36 



UNDER THE MISTLETOE 

KISSED her 'neath the mistle- 
toe! 
She was so sweet, so young, so 
fair. 
With bright blue eyes and golden 
hair, 

For all I reck the world may know, 
I kissed her 'neath the mistletoe. 




Nor do I think she was too bold 

When 'round my neck she threw her arms. 
And whispered soft her quaint alarms ; 

For she was only five years old, 

And feared, she said, her nurse might scold. 



37 




LOVE WITH MARGINAL NOTES 

WROTE some verses on a day ; 

With pangs of love overflowing, 
And left them in a careless way 
Upon my desk, unknowing. 

Sweet Martha enters all forlorn. 
Though Richard loves her dearly : 
For Dick is not to riches born — 
To slender wages merely. 

Ah, can they marry on a thou — 

She sees a likely margin 
About the verses that just now 

I told my love at large in. 

Her pretty head with figures filled — 

She snatches up the paper, 
And soon the items all are billed 

In columns long and taper. 

A pound of " mutton's 20 cents, 

And 40 cents for butter." 
Is scrawled across — " the love intense 

My lips can never utter." 

38 



The price of coal to some extent 
O'erlaps "my mistress' scorn;" 

" $500 for the rent " 

Blots out — " my soul is torn !" 

Sweet Martha, true and tender maid, 
How well you dot and carry ! 

But, Martha, dear, when all is said. 
Oh, does it pay to marry ? 



39 




AUTUMN DAYS 



HE leaves 
have strewn 
^ the rustUng 
ways, 
The birds 
are strangely 
still; 

(^ u^The mill 
nd in these 

autumn days 

Isfbleak ancFsroicffiifc chill. 

i^d hopes which sitiile'd through summer haze 

Are dead and gone these autumn days. 



40 




A VALENTINE 

February 14, 1888, 

HAVE to force my pen to write, 
It seems unmaidenly to sue, 

Nor does the year excuse it — quite ; 
But then, you see, I write to you. 



We women, like the ghosts of old, 
Should only speak when spoken to 

And some will think me all too bold 
This rigid rule to break — do you ? 

I care not, — caution to the wind ! 

However this letter I may rue. 
My heart shall still its comfort find 

In having spoken once to you; 

And so forgive me if you deem 
What I have done is wrong to do, 

And just in pity let me dream 
That I am Valentine to you. 



41 




YOU DEAR OLD 
GOTHAM 



OU'VE grown a by-word 
in the land 
For rank corruption and 
misfeasance, 
For streets ill cleaned, ill 
lighted, and 
For many an unabated nuisance. 

Naught, naught within your courts is chaste. 
Except, perhaps, a recent statue ; 

E*en that is far above you placed. 

And frowns and points its arrow at you. 

I love you for the olden days 

Of Stuyvesants and Knickerbockers ; 

For those of Peter Pindar*s lays. 

When there were fewer bells than knockers. 

'T was sport to drive a sleigh and pair 
When Murray Hill a wooded ridge was, 

And gallants knew exactly where 

A certain place called Kissing Bridge was. 

42 



Then Wall Street was a walk for sheep 

(They say that "lambs" may still be found 
there) 

And lovers rendezvous would keep 

In Maiden Lane and by-paths round there ; 

Those days have drifted back until 

They seem to-day like Old World fables ; 

But, dear old town, I love you still, - 
In spite of horse-cars, steam, and cables. 



41 



A VALENTINE 

OVE'S district messengers are 
flowers. 
And by this motley crew 
Of roses, plucked in Kliinder's 

bowers, 
I send my love to you. 




44 




ENTRE NOUS 

AN IDYL OF THE " 4OO," AFTER AUSTIN DOBSON 

" They are neither man nor woman, 
" They are neither brute nor human." 

— POE. 

E are neither man nor girl, 
Entre nous. 
We are both in fashion's whirl, 

It is true ; 
But an ordinary feather 
Would outweigh us both together, 

Entre nous ; 
As we sit down here and chatter 
(For the ball room is so hot). 
It seems so small a matter 
Whether we exist or not 

That the " world that turns about us," 

As you said. 
Might better turn without us, 

I'm afraid : 
My neck looks well, decollete. 
My figure is not faulty. 
And my gown, of rare brocade. 

Is a poem among dresses ; 
In short, I'm well arrayed. 

But my empty heart confesses, 

45 



Fm less real than my maid, 
Who is not in fashion's van ; 

As for you, 
You're a parody on man, 

Entre nous. 

Let's discuss each other fairly ; 

Entre nous. 
You must admit it's rarely. 

That we do. 
For in our idle chatter 
'Tis easier far to flatter, 

Entre nous ; 
For example, 'twas in duty. 
Or at least I so suppose, 
That you said my piquante beauty 

Fostered envy in the rose ; 
Though you scarce were sure I heard 

What you swore, 
And you never meant a word. 

All the more. 
My apathy ignoring. 
Your compliments kept soaring, 
Till I really found them boring, 

Entre nous : 
A phonograph inserted 
In a doll of proper size 
46 



With machinery concerted 

To work the mouth and eyes, 
And dressed as near the fashion, 

As are you. 
Were as sensible to passion, 

Entre nous. 
As for me, my airs and graces, 

Entre nous ; 
My dresses, silks and laces, 

C 'est bien tout ! 
There is nothing else behind them ; 
For my feelings, my sensations, 
My heart and its temptations. 
The signs of its emotion. 
Love, hatred or devotion, 
If so you cared to do, 
You might search and never find them, 

Entre nous. 

Don't you think, if such the case is 

With us two. 

It were best to set our faces, 

Pour le coupy 

Against this bald flirtation ? 

'Tis but an irritation, 

Entre nous : 

Of course, if we were human, 

You a man and I a woman, 

47 



There might be some desire 
In our hearts to play with fire ; 
Or, if we both were younger, 

We might " pretend " at least. 
As children still their hunger 
With a papier mache feast ; 
But beneath this calm exotic 
With the lamplight ghnting through 
It's simply idiotic, 

Entre nous I 



WJ'fi^- 





TO MY MOTHER ON HER BIRTH- 
DAY 

June 20th, 1 88 J. 

[OW many years ago it was 
I scarcely dare to say, 

But well I know that it befell 
Upon this very day. 
And in the month that follows close 
Upon the heels of May; 

That in this State a babe was born 

With golden, fluffy hair, 
Who cried as if she knew it was 

A world of gloomy care. 
And felt that such a feeble thing 

Could have no business there. 

But still she lived, and in her life 

Were mingled joys and woes, 
The bitter coming with the sweet ; 

And like her emblem rose. 
She seemed the lovelier for the tear 

Which every woman knows. 

Yet now this woman, having been 
A blessing to us all, 

49 



Who call her by the sweetest name 

That ever man did call 
Another mortal being by 

Since Adam and "The Fall." 



This woman thinks as once she thought, 

When, being lately born. 
She felt it was a cruel world, 

And she the most forlorn 
Of all whoVe been from happier climes 

By ruthless parents torn. 

Ah ! well it is a dismal thing — 

Indeed it is ! — to live, 
And birth-days are the saddest days 

The long year has to give. 
So let us weep and catch our tears 

Within some patent sieve ; 

And just as long as they will stay 

The patent sieve within. 
Why we will be as sorrowful 

As we have ever been. 

But, when they're gone, what can we do 
But dry our eyes and grin ? 

so 



So, Mother, take these fragrant flowers. 

And let the drops that lie 
Upon their rosy petals do 

Instead of many a " cry," 
And when you really want to weep — 

Why, get a sieve, and try. 




51 



TO MY MOTHER ON HER 
BIRTHDAY 

June 20thy i88^. 

HEN, proud of thee, the 

smiling earth 
Would all her joy at once 
disclose, 
And deck the month that saw thy birth, 
She ordered June to bear the rose. 




5* 



TWO PICTURES 

** Look here upon this picture and on this." — Hamlet 

HE Student's lamp shines 
brightly 




On rows of well-worn tomes. 
And wreaths of smoke I float 
lightly 
From iEschylus to Holmes ; 
The student's fancy wanders, 

His feet are cocked on high, 
O'er pleasant things he ponders, 
And winks his wicked eye. 

% 4f As 4) 4j 

The boudoir's light is blinking 

Before two eyes which seem 
More brilliant to my thinking 

Than Sol's most ardent beam ; 
Through loosened nut-brown tresses 

Gleams white a shoulder bare. 
And petticoats and dresses 

Lie tumbled on a chair. 

*l Af Aj AJ % 

S3 



The student still is thinking, 
His thoughts have turned awry, 

And all his wicked winking 
Has ended in a sigh. 

^ ^ At M ^ 

Her toilet quite perfected 
The woman dreams awhile. 
And in her glass reflected 

Is such a meaning smile. 




54 




TO PRUE WITH A FAN 

HE sprites and fays and elfin things 
That will get tangled in your hair, 
Though fanning madly with their 
wingSj 

Can scarcely stir the heavy air, 
But this, I hope, shall serve to lure 
Some light-heeled zephyr from the West, 
Whose cool-lipped kisses may insure 
Your comfort while the fiddles rest. 



55 




YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, 
AND TO-MORROW 

HE past be d d ! the future 

will come, 
Whatever we do, or say, or 
think. 
Leave tears to some, and prayers to 
some. 
The present's the time to play and 
drink : 



For what care we though to-morrow we 
die! 

Let's live to-day — so far, so good — 
And if to-morrow we needs must sigh, 

'Tis never to-morrow be't understood : 

For to-day is to-day, whatever it was 
When yesterday's sun burned clear 
and bright. 
And to-morrow is never to-morrow, be- 
cause 
To-day steals a march on it during the 
night. 
And if it be only to-morrow we die. 

That we'll live forever and ever is clear ; 

56 



So now, while the merry to-days go by, 
Let's toss the bumper from year to year. 

We don't give a hang for the future or past, 
The one is gone, and the other's to come ; 

But the present — the present is here to last — 
Be merry to-day — to-morrow be glum ! 




57 




ARCADIE 

T'S agreed, that when we are tired and sick 
Of dinners and coaches and dances ; 
That when Harry of pleasing has lost the 
trick, 
And ditto has happened to Frances ; 
When we long for Nature, and all that's 
true. 
And worth the trouble of wishing ; 
With a rod and a creel and a book, that you 
And I shall go a-fishing ; 

That we'll wander lazily down the stream 

With a hamper of cold provisions ; 
And that you shall sing the while I dream ; 

And that Civil Procedure decisions. 
And law and order and all that's dry 

Shall vanish in innocent pleasure. 
As your notes float up to the summer sky 

In a quaint and purling measure; 

That the brook shall join in the glad refrain ; 

And, when we have fished and waited. 
Too happy to know that we fish in vain, 

Or to care if the hook be baited, 

58 



That we'll sit us down in some grateful shade, 
And that there you shall read at your ease, 
dear. 

And teach me to like or Browning or Praed, 
Or anything else you please, dear ; 

That is, when sick of the world am I, 

And you of its fuss and its flutter. 
That afar from the haunts of men we'll fly 

With a basket of bread and butter, — 
That when you are tired of being a belle. 

And I of posing as clever — 
" And that will be when ? " you ask — oh, well, 

Perhaps it is safe to say — never ! 



59 



MISS AURORA BOREALIS 

ITH the lazy grace of an indo- 
lent queen 
She lifts her head and she 

cocks her chin, 
While the haughty curl of 
her lip must mean 
The reign of an insolent spirit within ; 
And she is so cold, so bitterly cold. 

That I button my overcoat up to my chin, 
And I shiver whenever I make so bold 

As to touch her hand, for my blood is thin. 




60 



A PLEA FOR TWO LAWLESS 
TRESPASSERS M. {After Sir John Ben ham,) 





OT content to kiss thy cheek, 
Favor meek ! 
For a greater boon they speak, 
Burning with an amorous fire 
To thy Hps, 
To thy Hps 
My lips aspire ! 

Where they'll feast themselves until, 

If you will. 

Greedily theyVe had their fill, 

Then, with nectar drunk, excuse 'em, 

When they stray. 

When they stray 

To thy bosom. 

6i 



THE DUEL 




KNEW my love was brave 
as well as fair 
And, chancing once with her 
to differ, 
Instead of gauntlets one I sent 
a pair 
To make my challenge seem the stiffen 



The choice of weapons thus did lie with her. 

She chose the tongue, for she could use it. 
To this, I own, I made no slight demur ; 

(I knew at talking I should lose it !) 

She called me coward, asked me what I would ; 

I said : *' Let's compromise the matter. 
You use your tongue, and I my lips." " 'Tis 
goo4 ! " 

She cried, and straight began to chatter. 

I kissed her pretty lips and stopped the flow. 
She pursed her rosy mouth and pouted : 

"You don't fight fair!" she cried, "for well 
you know 
I cannot kiss and talk." I doubted 



62 



That this her plaint she could by code sustain : 
" *Tis just/' I said, " You can't deny it, 

That sword should fend : forsooth I'd soon be 
slain 
Without a guard, my lips supply it." 




63 



OSCULATORY 




E gave me a kiss 

As he told me good-bye ; 
Yes, I know 'twas amiss, 
He gave me a kiss, 
Yet hate him for this 

I can't though I try; 
He gave me a kiss 

As he told me good-bye. 



64 




A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE 
Dramatis Persons 

JANE MAUD 

Afterward cousin 

WALTER 
MAUD 

HE honeysuckle climbs about 
Outside the window on the trellis, 
The flower-clusters all are out — 
Just sniff and see how sweet their smell is. 
Come, let us go, and in the fields 
We'll pass the afternoon together ; 
Come, work to pleasure always yields 
On days rejoicing in such weather. 

JANE 

No, no ; I found this coat all torn. 
You know, 'tis Walter's smoking-jacket, 
And there's a button — 

MAUD 

Oh, forlorn 
Excuse ! — a button ! — let it lack it ! 
The rent was bad, but after all, 
Dear sister Jane, why should you sew it? 
You're not a servant at his call. 

65 



Besides, 'tis odds he'll never know it. 
Come, drop the nasty thing and don 
Your dear old-fashioned muslin bonnet. 

JANE 

No ; I must sew this button on. 

MAUD 

At window, seeing cousin Walter approaching 
Then go the while I work upon it. 

JANE 

Handing jacket to maud 

Well, if you will, I'll run and dress. 
You see the tear's already mended. 

Exit JANE and enter cousin Walter 

After an admiring glance at maud's occupation 

Dear Maud's an angel ! I confess 

I wonder why Jane's more commended. 



66 




BY REQUEST 

O you wish me to write a poem for 
you, 
The scene to be laid in a ball- 
room you say 
With a heroine looking as heroines 
do 

When dancing they turn the night into 
day, 
And a hero rigged out in a clawhammer coat. 

Patent leathers below, and a mull tie above ? 
What you wished for a theme I neglected to 
note. 
But presume you prefer I should sing about 
love. 

Here goes then — my heroine — must I define ? 

Or will you just turn to the glass at your side. 
And by your reflection the features divine ? 

If you don't hit the mark you'll not go very 
wide — 
For her face is perfection, and as for her mind 

The philosopher's stone was nothing, I 
hold. 
To her pretty conceits, which ever refined 

The meanest of dross into purest of gold ; 

67 



My hero — good lack ! he was nothing at all, 
A commonplace every-day sort of a swain, 
Just the kind of a man you might meet at a 
ball. 
Nor care if you never should see him again, 
But, alas, the poor fellow ! he, for his sins. 

Fell madly in love with this beautiful maid. 
And swore to her once — here the swearing be- 
gins— 
That his passion was such that it never could 
fade. 

ENVOI 

Of course you have guessed who my characters 
are. 
And how Tve made use of your laughing 
request 
To tell you I love with a love that's by far 
More lasting than hills, more wild than the 
West. 



68 



DIABLERIE 

" When the Devil was ill, the Devil a monk would be, 
When the Devil got well, the devil a monk was he." 

Rabelais. 



ENEATH the brown of his sun- 
^y burnt cheek 

y ^\ The devil grew pale in the gills, — 
'Tis bootless the cause of his ailing 
to seek, 
Perhaps he was subject to 
chills, — 

Be that as it may, his mustache lost 
its curl. 
And he looked so meagre and limp, 
That Charity felt — the soft-hearted girl ! — 
Compelled to pity the imp : 



With poultices, lotions, witch hazel, beef tea, 

With soda-mint tablets and pills 
She doctored the scamp, while — a wonder to 



see: 



He bore like an angel his ills ; 
So saintlike he seemed, that it was with relief, 

(You perceive all her pity in this,) 
In his coming translation she lost her belief 

By his dastardly stealing a kiss. 

69 




MAN'S LOVE 

HE sun rode low in the western sky, 
The song of the birds grew still 
As he and she came strolling by 
Through the lane which led by 
the mill ; 

" Have you heard ? I'm engaged to Harry," 
said she. 

While a bright smile dimpled her cheek. 
And never a single word said he. 

Though he seemed about to speak. 

But bending low he kissed her hand 

As he stifled a sob unheard, 
And he left next day for a foreign strand. 

Where he died and was interred — 

That is, in the course of some twenty years, 

In which, as it will befall. 
He had cause for laughter and cause for tears. 

And two good wives in all. 



70 




A REMINISCENCE 

N old barn full of darkness, 
hay, 
And bugs, and slugs, and 
other things 
That rustle in an eerie way — 
A bat's half seen and noiseless wings — 
The barn door open to the sky, 

Whence shines the evening twilight 
through — 
A hay mow that is not too high 
To reach with lazy ease, and — you. 



71 




ROMANCE 

|HROUGHOUT a plodding, dull, 

prosaic life 
The mem'ry of a face, a word, a 

glance — 

The sweet that lingers of the old romance. 
With which our frolic younger days were rife. 
Will still remain in spite of children, wife. 
And all that in the lapse of years may chance. 
And with its pretty tenderness enhance 
The peace with which at first it seems at strife. 

As on the pathway of the sun a cloud 
Doth prove a blessing rather than a bane 
When through its mists his rays empurpled 

gleam. 
So thought of her, we dare not name aloud 
Because of plighted vows at Hymen's fane. 
Still lends our life the halo of a dream. 



7» 




QUID PRO QUO 

AN IMITATION 

ALLY, Sally, hear me through. 
Once I loved no one but you, 
And now, although I love 
no less, 
*Tis meet that I my sins con- 
fess. 
Confess that though I love you still 

Another shares my heart. 
That of my life against my will 
That other forms a part. 

Blame me not then when I sip 
Nectar from another's lip : 

'Tis not that Sally's ceased to please, 

'This not that fairer is Louise, 
But since Lou's here while Sal is there. 

And kissing's sweet, you know, 
To kiss Louise I think is fair 

If done as quid pro quo. 



73 




HER PARASOL 

lENEATH its shade 
The saucy maid 

Lay sheltered from the 
sun, 

And thus to me : 
" Good sir," quoth she, 

" There is just room for one." 

So down I sat, 
And 'neath her hat. 

Tip-tilted rowdy-wise. 
It came to pass, 
I lost, alas ! 

My heart within her eyes. 



74 




TO THE 
DIANA ON 
TOP OF MADISON 
SQUARE GARDEN 



Why slay'st thou not, thou glittering, stern. 
Nude mistress of Endymion ? 

Art dazed, whichever way dost turn. 
To find a staring Actaeon ? 




CELIA'S PORTRAIT 






rELIA'S portrait's passing fair, 
. Passing fair is Celia too, 

•>^^ None with either can compare 
Save the other of the two. 

That is why the artful minx 
Will not give to begging love 

Any likeness, for, she thinks, 

'Twould perhaps her rival prove. 



76 




TO AMARYLLIS AT NEWPORT 

KNOW a place upon the cliffs 
Concealed from view of passing skiffs, 

Whose very outlines, darling, 
In misty clouds the fog elfs wrap. 
Where we can hear the sea-dogs lap. 
Or listen to their snarling : 

Where no unwelcome gossip's eye 
Upon our loving tryst may spy 

At eve or in the morning ; 
Where you and I need make no bones 
O'er treating Mrs. Grundy Jones 

And " les ondits " with scorning : 

So let us meet there safe from ken. 
And should I kiss you now and then 

While fleecy fog-banks hide us, 
As long as it were known to none 
Why, very little harm were done. 

Although no bonds have tied us. , 



77 




JOAN 

HOUGH Joan be close on sixty 
year 
Old age hath kissed her lightly, 
A white hair there, a wrinkle here, 

A step not quite so sprightly 
As when in Newport years ago 
She charmed me with her dancing — 
They call me now, " that stiff old beau," 
But she is still entrancing. 

She knows I love her and to boot 

She seems to like my wooing. 
Yet after forty years my suit 

Is still in course of suing. 
But what of that, and that my knee 

Has grown too stiff to bend it. 
My suit to her shall always be 

Until friend Death shall end it. 



78 



EPITAPH OF A CUR 

EMPERJidelis, semper idem^ 

Semper paratus to bark or to bite, 
Sic itur ad astra, and though he was 
lame, 
Deo juvante, he'll get there all 
right. 

Semel pro semper he's gone to his rest. 

His barks are all barked and finished his 
work, 

Feccator magnus he was at his best, 
Siste viator et or a pro Turk, 




79 




TO CELIA REQUESTING A POEM 
BEFORE BREAKFAST 

H how for a poem at this time o' day 
Can you make e'en a laughing re- 
quest ! 
Lo the Robin still sings his matu- 
tinal lay. 
And his hen has not yet left her 
nest, 

And the worth of its birthright appears to my 
soul 

As slowly to life it awakes 
Immeasurably less than the price of a roll 

And a griddle of feathery cakes. 

No, I cannot compose till the earth has been 
aired, 

And the birds have all taken their " dips,'* 
Till my maiden my coffee has deftly prepared, 

And the cup has been pressed to my lips. 

But I hope you won't find my refusal too gruff. 
And will learn this at least from my scroll. 

That the morning of day should be poem enough 
For a girl who's possessed of a soul. 

80 



A TRIOLET 



OU blush at my name 

Prefixed by a " Madam " — 
Sweet maidenly shame 
Thus to blush 2Xyour name. 
Doubtless Eve did the same 
Ere she was Mrs. Adam. 
I shall blush /(?r my name 

Till you bear it, dear Madam. 




8i 



TO PHYLLIS 

WITH A COPY OF LOCKER's " LONDON LYRICS " 

HE poet sings of other girls, 

Of other modes, and other fashions ; 
His loves wore crinolines and curls, 
Had vapours too, and doubtless, 
passions. 



'Tis plain he does not rhyme of you — 

I do it, in and out of season, — 
But, then, you see, he never knew ; 

And I have known — and that's the reason. 




But take the book, and, when 'tis read. 
If any verse seem fine or pretty. 

Think so would I of you have said. 
If I were he or half as witty. 



82 



TO HER 

WITH A BOOK OF VERSES 

CCEPT this book of poesie 

Which quaintly pictures you and 
me 
In various different guises. 
There I as Launcelot appear 
And you as stately Guenevere 
The world with grace surprises. 




For know, my love, the names but lie, 
'Tis ever only you and I 

That wander through the pages, 
And more — to me in " Noman's Land " 
We two have wandered hand in hand 

It seems for countless ages. 

And so, dear sweetheart, if you will 
Throughout this land we'll wander still. 

Come fair or stormy weather. 
O'er beetling crag, thro' sunny dale, 
Until we reach the " darksome vale," 

Two friends grown old together. 



83 




TO ARAMINTA 

WITH Fitzgerald's rubaiyat of omar khayyam 

CCEPT these Rubaiyat of Wine 
and Song 
And gentle Love by Omar writ- 
ten long 
Ere Thou on Earth "with shining Foot" 
didst tread. 
An Angel 'midst the unconsidered Throng. 

And if Thou findest there that " old Khayyam," 
Neglecting Love and Song, overpraise His 

Dram, 
Remember then how long before Thy Rise 
The luckless Poet made His last Salaam. 



84 



WHAT BABY THINKS 

OU know / fink that my papa 
Is very, very deep 

In love wif — guess ! — 
why, my mama ! 
Because, when I'm asleep, 
Or 'least when papa finks I is. 

He steals up to her chair. 
An' den he gives her such a kiss ! 

An' musses up her hair ; 
An' my mama does not say no, 

Whatever he may do. 
But just sits still an' breaves^ an' so 
I Jink she loves him too. 



85 




TO MY DAUGHTER PHYLLIS~i893 

Y dear, as you lie kicking there, 
I wonder who will find you 

fair, 
And rave at length about 
your hair — 
(A downy fluff at present) 
And if your voice will ever thrill 
A lover's soul, or sweetly fill 
A music-room — I find it shrill 
And far from pleasant. 



You certainly have " cunning " toes, 
But ankles ! — surely, dearest, those 
Fat, creasy things, which you disclose 

With freedom shocking. 
Cannot by any magic be 
Seedlings of that which charmeth me 
Where'er by some good luck I see 

Your mother's stocking. 

I pray that you may " grow in grace," 
Thzt features may adorn your face. 
That sense and beauty may keep pace 
With one another 

86 





In your small entity, and still 
Increase, if by God*s wiser will. 
You may be spared to live, until 
You're like your mother. 




87 



"TO BETTY"— 1897 




ETTY, mistress of my soul. 
Wealth of Ind were worthless 

chafF 
Sans thy inimitably droll : 
Me laugh ! " 

In her voice a cordial lies, 

Which, who knew her stintless quaff. 
When with dimples Betty cries : 
" Me laugh ! " 

Care before these words takes wing ; 

Fortune, heedless of thy gaff. 
Prodded I with Betty sings : 
" Me laugh ! " 

Betty, when I, growing old. 

Lean upon thee for my staff. 
Ne'er forget those words of gold : 
" Me laugh ! " 

Never lose thy merry soul ; 

Mirth is grain, and sorrow chaff; 
Meet misfortune with thy droll 
" Me laugh ! " 

88 



L.oFC. 



BON VOYAGE 

OST everything's been said 
or sung 
By some more sweet or facile 
tongue. 

That's worth the saying, 
So now, that, lying off the 

strand. 
Your ship, ere setting can- 
vas and 

Her anchor weighing. 

Awaits until the gong be heard. 
And that you ask a parting word 

Of this attorney. 
What can a musty lawyer say 
Save wish you in his driest way 
A pleasant journey ! 




89 




"WHENCE COMES FEAR?" 

"HE thunder rolled portentous, 

Down the hillside through the 

glade, 
And my darling little daughter, 
Said : " Father, I'm afraid." 

Then I told her the old legend 
Of Hudson and his men. 
And how they played at tenpins 
Up the mountain in the glen. 

And how the grumbling thunder 
Was of the balls they bowled. 

And how the splitting crashes 
Their mighty ten-strikes told. 

But after I had finished 

As the lightning rent the sky. 

She cowered low and whimpered : 
" Tm afraid ! — I'd like to cry." 

Then I marvelled at her fearing. 
She, who'd never felt the rod. 

Could it be she knew, and trembled 
At the awful voice of God ? 



90. 




t 



PEACE 

JULY, 1897 

HE hand of Death yet grasping its rod, 

Was upheld o'er the stricken place 
Where the voice, as It were an angel of God, 

Of a boy with a seraph's face 
Through the air, all heavy with lilies dead, 

And a sorrow which must Increase, 
Sang straight to our hearts, our hearts that bled, 

Of peace — of perfect peace. 

The black-stoled priests, from the chancel gone. 

Precede the bier to the grave. 
Yet still that exquisite voice alone. 

Rings sweet through the groined nave. 
And the boy In the light of the oriel stands 

Till the chastened footfalls cease, 
And sings to his God o'er his clasped hands 

Of peace — of perfect peace. 



91 




A DEDICATION 

EAR Phyllis, if thus far you've read 
I doubt me much you shake your 
head, 
And wonder whether 
I be a Mormon in disguise. 
Since for so many maids my sighs 
IVe bound together: 



If so, you have not read a bit 
Between the lines, and all your wit 

Misserves you, Phyllis, 
For know that you and only you 
Are meant by " Celia," " Chloe," " Prue," 

And " Amaryllis. 



92 



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PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES, H 
111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township. PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



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